Chapter 22

22

Maeve went over to Brandon Nolte, who stood in the shade across the street from the courthouse. He held his wide-awake son in his arms. The boy was more of an age with the twins.

Lydia was sitting up in Maeve's arms now, looking at the interesting, bustling town of Cheyenne. In her very short life, she'd never left Hidden Canyon—none of Beth's children had. Maeve wondered how it all seemed to the Holt children.

"Where'd Michaela go, Mr. Nolte?" Maeve had to wonder because his daughter had always been close at hand.

Dakota sidled up to Maeve with Marie in his arms. She was groggy and rubbing her eyes. That wouldn't last for long. Soon they'd be chasing her to keep her from running in front of an oncoming freight wagon. Brand's little boy looked at her and Lydia with fascinated interest.

"Call me Brand." He nodded toward a storefront just down the street— Sadie's Dry Goods . "Her ma has an order in for fabric. When she's not a judge, she's a seamstress. And a fine one at that. She's running low on calico and gingham, and she may even buy some lengths of silk. She's going to buy enough fabric that she can sell yard goods to women who sew for themselves. Michaela has a few things she wants. She's partial to ribbons, and Nell has taught her how to tat lace. She wants to learn to knit, too. So she'll need yarn, thread for the lace, and some embroidery floss to do needlework. Nell told her to go ahead and pick out what she wants. Michaela has sound judgment for such things."

Maeve wanted to hear more. "A judge and a seamstress, that's wonderful. Your wife is a marvel. And because you're making it possible for her to be both, that makes you a marvel as well."

Brand laughed. "I'm a hand with children, I reckon." He looked at Dakota, and the two men exchanged smiles as they held the tykes. "I raised Michaela and her two big sisters for a few years without a ma. When I married Nell, well, she's mighty smart about girls, and I was a lunkhead. But when it comes to baby wrangling, I've been at it a lot longer than she has."

Dakota said, "I was the oldest of five brothers, and my ma died when the last of us boys were born. I was caring for little ones from a young age."

"Life's full of hardships." Brand kissed his son on his blond head.

"I'd like to go look in the dry-goods store, Dakota." He looked around the busy town.

Maeve noticed that overly watchful expression of his, just like he'd had in the hotel dining room. Which reminded her that he'd kissed her then. That made her want to get well away from him and shop for yarn with Michaela, and do it quick.

"I'd better come along." Dakota nodded to Brand. "It's occurred to us that threatening these children would be a good way for Rutledge to get his wife to come along home with him."

"He'd do a thing like that?" Brand had a look in his eyes. A man who'd seen his share of trouble.

Maeve saw it in Dakota's, too. Maybe someone might think they saw that same look in her own eyes. "The way Ginny tells it," she said, "her husband has never accepted defeat in his whole life. Her running off kept her money out of his reach. But regardless of the money, she defied him, and that he can't abide."

"Down, Pa!"

Brand bounced his wiggling son. "He'll have to accept it if she's found to be sane by the judge."

Maeve glanced at the courthouse behind her and regretted leaving, but a crying baby had no place at a trial. "I am sorely afraid that judge telling him his wife is sane and that she must be left alone now won't serve the purpose Ginny hopes it will. Win or lose, she'll still be in danger."

Dakota had his own arms full with Marie, who struggled to get down and play. "And she loves these grandbabies. There's not much she wouldn't do to protect them. Because of that, I don't want Maeve wandering around alone."

Brand nodded his agreement, wrangled his son, and stared at the courthouse, all at the same time.

Maeve, feeling hunted more by Dakota and her memory of that kiss than some unknown henchman of Rutledge's, headed for the store. She had very little money and no need for a new dress, but pretty fabric and silk embroidery thread were always a pleasure to look at and touch. Maybe Dakota would stay outside.

But no. As she went inside, the lumbering ox came right in with her. It was a woman's shop! He had no place here, and she'd bet anything he had no need of silk embroidery thread.

Glancing at him, Maeve said, "We need to find a safe place for Marie to run around for a while. Could you go ask Brand if there's a school playground or a churchyard nearby?"

Dakota shook his head. "I'll be staying close by you. After you've done your shopping, we can find a place for the young'uns to play. For now, I'll hang on to Marie. I can hold Lydia too if you like."

Maeve turned away. Clearly the man was going nowhere. She visited with Michaela for a bit. Dakota wandered the store as if he was in the market for calico. Michaela was studying tatting thread.

The older lady running the shop was friendly and made a fuss over the children. "Can I help you find what you're looking for?"

Maeve looked around the store, which was surprisingly large. From the outside, the place didn't look all that big. There were bolts of material lying stacked on tables, among them fine leather and silk, and printed fabric and solid-colored cotton that looked perfect for men's shirts. A set of drawers had the labels Embroidery silk , Thread , and Yarn . The needles and thimbles were displayed be hind the glass-front counters that lined the room. And a number of books were available for customers to page through; one of them was open to a dress in a style Maeve had never imagined. It had ruffles and underskirts and wide, billowing arms gathered at the wrists. The store also sold bonnets and parasols, gloves and handkerchiefs, even shoes. Everything smelled so new, clean, and fresh. Maeve could stay here in this shop all day.

"You have so many lovely things," she answered the older woman. "I'll just look around for a while if you don't mind. Go ahead and help Michaela."

"Oh, you know the judge's daughter?" She gestured to a teetering pile of fabric on the front counter. "The judge is also a seamstress, and she's begun selling fabric to the ladies in her area who make their own clothes. She's quite the businesswoman."

Maeve smiled. "Yes, Michaela and I have met." Maeve decided not to go into detail about how or why.

Michaela returned and laid skeins of white yarn on a stack of fabric. Judge Nolte, as a seamstress, appeared to have made a good-sized order. Maeve wasn't sure where Pine Valley was, but she got the impression it'd been a long journey to get to Cheyenne. No doubt it was hard to find fabric this beautiful on the frontier.

The owner went back to the stack of fabric and began wrapping bundles in brown paper.

Lydia yelped and wiggled. Maeve was heading to the back of the store to tell Dakota they should probably go when Marie dove for the floor. Dakota was paying close attention and didn't drop her. He looked at Maeve and whispered, "I'm going to set her down for a bit. Not much breakable here, and I'll watch her close." He lowered her to the floor.

The girl darted behind a table overflowing with fabric. Smiling, Maeve went after her, only to find the little one gone. Maeve saw an aisle between tables and heard Marie jabbering. With Lydia in hand, Maeve followed the toddler and found herself in a back room. She caught up to Marie and reached for her hand.

Someone locked an arm around her neck and hissed, "Quiet."

He turned her in the direction she'd come to look right at Dakota. She heard the metallic click of a gun being cocked and noticed Dakota looking past her shoulder at whoever held her.

"Take the baby," the man said. "Set her on the floor and let's go. Come along quietly or I'll shoot the woman."

"Please, let her go." Dakota had his palms raised. "I promise I'll come without any trouble."

"Not another word or the woman dies. Then I start on the young'uns. I'd as soon get out of town, but then you and I are going to have us a showdown. As it is, I'm willing to leave the little ones behind and only take the two of you."

Maeve felt the man's hot breath blow past her ear as he talked.

This was about Ginny. Rutledge had hired someone to harm them, his purpose to get Ginny to give up her fight and go home with her husband. Go back to the asylum. But Rutledge would want them to take Ginny's grandchildren as well. She'd be much more likely to do as she was told if it meant saving her precious babies. Why would Rutledge think Ginny would be swayed by a threat to Maeve and Dakota?

Dakota's jaw clenched. Then he said, "Give me Lydia, Maeve."

Her stomach sank. Dakota was going to do as he was told. Marie was already wandering out of the back room. Soon Michaela would see her, search for Maeve and Dakota, then call for help.

They just had to stay alive until help came in the form of the whole family over at the courthouse.

Dakota took Lydia without any sudden moves. He crouched down to lay the little girl on the floor. She promptly sat up and then crawled for the wall, where she pulled herself to her feet. Turning to look at them, she smiled.

Maeve wanted to go, and go fast—before this man realized he should take the children. The arm tightened around her neck. He motioned with the gun in such a way that the muzzle was visible with her right eye.

"Out the back," he ordered. "Now. There are two horses waiting. You'll only be a step ahead of me and never out of my sight. Mount up, then wait for me and the woman."

Dakota walked right out the back door. Maeve was just a step behind him as they both emerged into an alley. The man holding her closed the door to the shop.

Maeve saw there weren't two horses, there were three. On the third one, a man sat with his gun drawn. Aimed straight at Dakota.

"Mount up. Let's get out of town."

Dakota glanced at Maeve, his jaw rigid. He swung up onto the horse while Maeve was tossed over a saddle. The man who'd grabbed her mounted up so fast she didn't have a chance to even think of fighting back.

The group rode away from the back of the dry-goods store, heading for the edge of town.

Maeve, sprawled across the saddle with a man whose face she'd yet to see riding with her, prayed as she never had before.